Muddy Situation
by Bones62442fbi-rlh
Summary: A soft echo sounded with each step he took as he made his way through the Jeffersonian. Occasionally muttered words of annoyance would find ways out of his mouth as well, drawing the curious looks of a few scientists wandering about.
1. Muddy Situation

**Here's a new story! I don't know yet if this is it or if I'm going to continue it. Tell me what you think!**

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A soft echo sounded with each step he took as he made his way through the Jeffersonian. Occasionally muttered words of annoyance would find ways out of his mouth as well, drawing the curious looks of a few scientists wandering about. He gruffly apologized when a collision with a small intern nearly sent the kid flying into a wall, but otherwise continued on his way until reaching his destination.

The door to her office was open and Booth had barley stepped in when Brennan, without looking away from her computer, said, "Hello, Booth."

Bad mood far from forgotten, Booth waited until Brennan turned to face him before answering. "How did you know I was here?"

"I sensed your air of hostility," she answered easily, with a smile that slightly eased Booth's grouchiness… but _only _slightly. The other ninety-eight percent of his mood found her good one more irritating than charming.

"I thought you didn't _sense _things," he accused, arms crossed as he invited himself over to her couch and sat down. "And _why_ are you smiling?"

Brennan felt like laughing at Booth's child-like behavior, but she held back the impulse, doubting it would help. "I didn't really, I just heard you collide with that intern girl." She quirked an eyebrow at him, "and why are you so irritable?"

"I'm not," Booth mumbled, sinking lower into the couch, making his neck appear to shrink as he hunched his shoulders up.

"You are," she closed the file on her computer, ignoring Booth's _not_ said quietly under his breath, and went to stand in front of him. She observed him for a moment and Booth shifted uncomfortably as she did so.

"I'm not a pile of human remains for you to examine!" he said finally, squirming to make room for her on the couch so she could sit down.

"Your body language suggests that you are either upset or angry," Brennan told him, earning a bemused look. She sighed, "I picked up that book on body language and such, remember?"

"Right," Booth shook his head, as if to clear out the inside. "I dunno, I suppose I'm just grumpy."

"I never would've guessed."

Booth ignored her. "I didn't get to sleep until four this morning."

"Well that was stupid," Brennan said.

"I didn't do it on _purpose_!" Booth protested, running his hand through his hair, causing it to stick up, "I didn't get home until late, and then I couldn't sleep."

"I'm sorry," Brennan said cautiously, unsure of what to tell him.

Booth snorted. "Not your fault," he muttered and looked over at her. "I didn't mean to come in here and be rude, by the way. It just kind of happened."

"Don't worry about it," she waved it off, "I can handle it, and you've definitely dealt with me enough times."

"Very true."

Brennan rolled her eyes. "So is there something you _did _come here for?"

"Oh yeah," Booth suddenly perked up. "We're going to go and interview a suspect for our case!"

Brennan stared at him with disbelief. "Why does _that _cheer you up?"

"… I'm not really sure."

"You might want to talk to Sweets about that."

"Actually I might not."

--

Brennan followed slowly behind Booth, very much aware of every place her foot contacted the slippery mud terrain that never seemed to end. The suspect Booth and Brennan went to interview lived in a small cabin in the middle of no-where-land, and was usually surrounded completely by bumpy dirt roads. The rainstorm that occurred recently had turned the dirt to mud. The two partners already had to endure the walk up to the house, and now were on the walk back to Booth's SUV.

"Why couldn't you have just driven up to the house?" Brennan said crossly, arms sticking out like a tightrope walker in the circus in attempt not to slip and fall.

"The tires would've gotten stuck in the mud," Booth said, finding the hike up amusing, at least the part watching Brennan who, not at all fussy when dealing with dead bodies, was having trouble keeping her balance in the think wet mud.

"So much for four-wheel-drive," she growled.

Booth looked over his shoulder at her and grinned. "Who's grumpy now?"

"I'm just-" the rest of her sentence was cut off when her foot slid out from under her and she fell right in the mud. Booth couldn't hold back the laughter at the sight of Temperance Brennan with fleck of mud on her face and all over her clothes. "You suck," she said to him, causing him to laugh harder.

"I think that's the most undignified thing I've ever heard you say!" he laughed. "Need a hand up?"

She glowered at his extended hand, but took it, allowing herself to be pulled up. When he turned around to continue walking back to the SUV, now only a few feet away, she grabbed the back of his t-shirt and wiped the mud of her face, looking smug when he whirled around, nearly loosing his own balance.

"Oh, that's mature, Bones!" he exclaimed.

"Yes, well I don't _feel_ all that mature right now, covered in mud."

"Well you look great." He was only half kidding. He found the whole mess thing rather endearing. That's when he felt something wet hit him in the back of the head and then slide down his back. "You did not just throw mud at me…"

"Yes I did," she said casually, "and it felt good."

Booth opened up the door of the car for her, "just for that, we're going to my house so _I _can change first, and you can deal with wearing one of my shirts until we get to your place." He slammed the door before she could protest.

--

"If I believed in God, I think I'd say that he hated me right now," Brennan said as she looked out the window in Booth's living room at the ever darkening sky.

"Why's that?" Booth asked, coming out of the bathroom with only sweatpants and a t-shirt thrown over his shoulder, quickly towel drying his hair. He could have sworn he saw her eyes glance down at his torso, and smiled inwardly.

"It's starting to storm," Brennan pointed out, and sure enough, the rain was coming down fast. She was wearing one of Booth's large hockey t-shirts that came down to almost her knees. She had shed her jeans off a while ago for they were wet and sticking to her skin, chilling her.

There was a rumble of thunder shortly followed by a crack of lighting. Brennan flinched. "Want me to take you home now?" Booth asked her.

Brennan had a strange look on her face. "I don't want to go outside right now."

"Why not?"

"I…" Brennan looked utterly embarrassed. "I know it's silly, but I'm afraid of thunder and lightening."

Booth looked amazed. "You? Really?"

Brennan frowned. "When I was still a foster kid, I got locked out of the house I was staying at during a thunder and lightening storm… all night. I've been terrified of them every since."

Booth now felt stupid and guilty. "Oh, I'm sorry, Bones. I didn't mean to-"

"-it's fine."

"You're welcome to stay here until the storm is over."

"Thank y-"

Another boom of thunder and crack of lightening, and the room went dark. The limited light from the window was enough for Booth to see Brennan, but not enough to make out the expression of horror on her face.

"Naturally," Brennan said sarcastically. "Of course the power goes out- ouch!" Booth caught her arm when she stumbled over the coffee table. "Why am I so ungraceful today?"

"Everyone has off days. I was grouchy this morning too, remember?"

Brennan laughed shakily. "Yes, I-"

_CRACK!_

Brennan jumped forward. Booth wrapped his arms securely around her lower back and held her to his bare chest. Even after falling in the mud her hair still smelled good.

"Thanks," Brennan said quietly.

"Anytime," Booth smiled and looked down at her. She loosened her grip on him slightly to lean back and look back up at him. He could see a slight glimmer in her eyes, and before his brain could comprehend what his body just did, his lips were on hers. Another thing his brain couldn't comprehend was why she didn't push him away. On the contrary, her hands moved slowly up his chest, leaving a trail of cool air behind from the contrast of her warmth. Her hands settled at the back of his neck, holding tightly, pulling herself closer to him. He moved his mouth over hers, gently, but at the same time with a need that she gladly gave into. His tongue traced her lower lip, and he felt his whole body giving off heat when she allowed him access.

There was another noise in the background. The two reluctantly broke apart, breathily heavily. Booth looked around and realized his house phone was ringing. "What the….?" The power was still out, it didn't make any sense…

Booth went over and picked up the phone. "Hello?" It kept ringing, even after he picked it up. "Hello?" he tried again. It still rang.

Oh….

….. Booth sat up in his bed, the daylight streaming through the window shade. The clock on his bedside table read ten-thirty, and the phone was ringing. That's when it dawned on him…. _I was just dreaming…_

… _Bones was in my dream…_

… _She was at my house…._

… _I was kissing her…_

… _I really liked it…_

"Oh _shit_…"

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**Hi everyone! I hope you enjoyed it! I don't know if this is going to be a one-shot or if I'm going to continue it. Tell me what you think and I'll do whatever you peeps want!**

**Cheers!**


	2. Angela to the Rescue Kind Of

**Sorry chapter 2 took so long! I had the first few lines written, then the Angela scene, but I couldn't figure out what to put inbetween. So the inbetween bit kinda sucks, sorry!**

**one more chapter after this. Enjoy!**

It took Booth a few moments to realize that his phone was still ringing. Lunging over to the bedside table, he grabbed the phone. "Hello?"

"Hi Booth, it's me."

_Naturally. _"Hi Bones."

"Why are you at home?" Brennan asked somewhat disapprovingly.

"How do you know where I am?"

There was a pause. "Well I was assuming that generally your _home_ phone is kept in your _house_, but I could be mistaken."

Booth hit himself sharply in the forehead with said phone, causing more pain that he intended. _Idiot. _"Sorry, I just woke up. Still tired."

"Mm hm." He hated when she was elusive. "Which goes back to my original question: why are you still at home?"

Booth sat up in bed, the sheets slipping off him. "I was sleeping. It's Saturday. I assumed that would be okay, but judging from your call and questioning I'm now discarding the previous conclusion and coming up with the new one that I'm supposed to be doing something else or be somewhere else."

"Your new conclusion is correct," Brennan had a hint of amusement in her voice, possibly from the knowledge that Booth was poking fun at her. "Do you remember where you're supposed to be right now?"

"I don't know, Bones," Booth groaned, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and index finger. "What's with the guessing games? It's not very… _you_. Just tell me."

"I'm finding the guessing rather entertaining. However I suppose you hit your head harder than I thought."

"I hit my head?"

"Yes. You slipped in the mud, remember?"

Booth's mind started reeling. His dream… the rain… the case… the mud… slipping…aching… no kiss. He wanted to hit his head again as the events of the previous day flooded back to him. The case had been real. They had hiked up to that house through the mud. But on the way back he lost _his _footing, and slid into the mud, hitting his head in the process; not all that hard, but hard enough to be slightly disoriented. He remembered Brennan driving him home and that was it.

"Booth?" Brennan's voice brought him out of his thought, not realizing he had spaced off for a moment. "You there?"

"Yeah, sorry," he said. "I remember now. Thanks for driving me back."

"Not a problem," she said. "But you were supposed to be at Sweets' office ten minutes ago."

"_Damnnit!_" Booth hissed, jumping out of the bed and pulling on his clothes fast as he could, holding the phone to his ear by his shoulder. "Sorry, I completely forgot."

"Clearly."

"I'll be there in about five minutes," he ignored her comment.

"Alright, bye."

--

"That seemed shorter than usual," Booth commented as he and Brennan left Sweets' office. He was doing his best to not look her directly in the eye, and was thankful the meeting ended soon before Sweets could interrogate him about it.

"That would be because you arrived twenty minutes later than usual," Brennan eyed him curiously. "Is something wrong with you?"

He glanced at her while he held open the door for her. "No, no I'm okay, my head just… kind of hurts a little." It was partially true, his head hurt from trying to figure out what to do about his dream last night, which was what he spent the car ride to the meeting _and _the entire meeting thinking about.

Brennan looked concerned. "Maybe you should go back to the hospital and have them look at it. I didn't think you had a concussion, but I could be wrong-"

"-I'm alright, Bones!" interrupted Booth. "It's more of a slight headache, barely noticeable."

Brennan did not look convinced. "If you're sure." He nodded, a little too enthusiastically, as if trying to prove his head was fine. "I'm going to visit my father, then going to the Jeffersonian. Do you want to meet up for dinner later?"

"Yeah, sounds good," Booth smiled and watched her get into her car. He waited until he could no longer see her before getting into his own and accelerating towards the Jeffersonian, planning to take full advantage of the hour she might not be there.

--

"Angela!" Booth said breathlessly, barging into Angela's office. "I need help!"

Angela, who had jumped with his loud entrance, collected the sketch pad and pencil that had tumbled off her lap on to the floor. "And I believe I can help you. Firstly, when about to enter someone else's office when the door is shut, try _knocking_ first."

"Sorry," Booth said sheepishly, calming down slightly.

"Apology accepted," Angela set the pad and pencil on her desk and swiveled her chair to face him. "Now what's up?"

Booth took a breath. "I think I might have a problem."

"I figured as much when you said 'I need help.'" Angela said, smiling as he scowled.

"I'm serious."

"So am I," Angela laughed as he opened his mouth, looking annoyed, and cut him off before he could say anything. "Sit down before you start." It distracted him enough for his annoyance to subside and he looked back at Angela when he was situated. "So… shoot."

"Okay here it goes," Booth squeezed his eyes shut and forced the words out of his mouth slowly and in the proper order: "I think I might have feelings for Bones." Silence. Booth opened one, then the other to glance at Angela who hadn't moved a muscle. "Okay, did you scream already and I instantly went deaf, or did I say it wrong?"

"No no, you said it right," Angela said, eyeing him searchingly, "I'm just waiting for the punch line or the cameras to appear and tell me I've been Punk'd."

"Angela, I promise you Ashton Kutcher is _not _involved in this," Booth assured her, "no hidden cameras, no punch line, just me and my stupidity ready to royally screw up my life."

Angela studied him for a minute and he waited patiently, willing her to see the truth. "Oh my god, you're serious," she finally said, eye brows rising up farther than Booth had ever seen a person's go.

"Uhhh yes."

"Well what are you doing in here?!" Angela exclaimed, "go make out with her!"

"Do you honestly think that would help me or just get me karate chopped through the face?"

Angela grinned, "I got excited."

"I can see that. That was more of the response I was originally intending to get."

Angela shrugged. "Booth, you spontaneously come barging into my office in the middle of the day and tell me you have feeling for Bren, something I keep pushing, and expect me not to be suspicious at first?"

"Well a dream came barging spontaneously into my head the other night, so I was just as startled as you."

"A dream?" Angela leaned forward in her chair. "Do tell."

Booth explained to Angela the events of the case and how it got twisted and reinterpreted into his dream. Angela had a mixture of amusement and something else he wasn't sure of etched on her features. He finished explaining and waited for her to talk.

"If I had known that a bump on the head was all it took to make you realize, I would've knocked you out with a microscope ages ago," Angela said, and Booth couldn't help but snort.

"I think everyone would be more worried about the damage you'd do to the expensive microscope," Booth laughed.

"Well, Zack and Hodgins might be, but I doubt your dear partner would," Angela grinned at him.

"You don't know that."

"Neither do you," Angela laughed quietly. "I just had the urge to starting singing that Billy Joel song _Tell Her About It_ to you."

Booth rolled his eyes. "Please don't." He sighed, "besides, I'm planning on telling her anyway, I guess. That's why I came to you."

Angela pretended to wipe away fake tears, "I'm honored." She looked at Booth, seemingly deciding whether or not to say something, "I'm also so proud of you for finally getting the balls to do this."

"Are you going to help me or make fun of me?"

"My amazing multitasking abilities allow me to do _both_."

"Well aren't you special," Booth said sarcastically.

"You bet your sweet ass I am," Angela took in Booth's half unamused, half cautious look. "I'm sorry, that was totally out of line. Only Brennan should be allowed to call your ass sweet. And maybe your mother." She considered, "no, actually that would be disturbing. We'll limit it to just Brennan."

Booth but his face in his hands and groaned. "Please, God, let whatever Angela comes up with be worth the horrible jokes and teasing."

"Oh it will be."

"If it's not, I want a refund."

"You can have a complementary Jeffersonian sticker," Angela grinned.

"Oh happy day."

--

**So apparently there's gonna be a chapter three, but that will be the last one.**

**Review are not required, but are appreciated. )**


	3. The Shooting Range

**I'm soooooo sorry this took so unbelievably long to update!!! I was having a writers block and then this is the college search time and everything is just so stressful. I'm not really all that happy with the writing quality of this chapter, but oh well, at least I finally got it out. Not my best work, but I couldn't seem to get it where I wanted how I wanted. But I hope you enjoy it anyway.**

**Thanks!!!!**

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"Angela, that's insane," Booth ran his hand over his face for what felt like the thousandth time that evening. "There's no way she'd go for that."

The two of them sat in Angela's dimly lit office. The Jeffersonian was next to empty. Luckily for them, Brennan had left earlier to visit her father and brother, leaving Booth and Angela free to plan Booth's next move. In two hours, they had progressed nowhere.

"Booth," Angela said patiently, "I've suggested so many different ideas to you, and you haven't liked any of them."

"Because none of them seem like her." He was frustrated. Nothing Angela suggested stood out to him, none of them were special enough, yet simple enough at the same time. "I need to do something unique but simple, something…" he paused, "I don't know, but nothing you've said fits."

"And what does that tell you?" Angela pushed, willing him to understand what she had been demonstrating from her first suggestion.

"That your ideas suck?" Booth joked feebly.

Angela rolled her eyes. "For anyone else my ideas would be fine. Guess again."

Booth stared blankly into space. This was ridiculous; Angela was trying to help him, but it was useless. her ideas did not capture everything Brennan meant to him nor did they show how much he cared. No one but the two of them could truly understand their- _oh_…

"Oh…. I see," he said as the realization struck him.

"Get it _now_?" Angela asked.

He smiled sheepishly at her. "Something I have to figure out on my own. We know each other better than anyone, and I have to show that. Not with someone else's thoughts on what it could be or should be. Or especially what's customary," he let out a short laugh.

"Finally," Angela laughed too. "I was running out of clichéd romantic story lines."

Booth stood up from the couch. "Thanks, Angela. I think I can handle this now."

"Good, because I'm going home to sleep." She smiled as Booth hurried out of her office, giving her a wave before running out of sight.

--------------------

_You're thinking too much._

_It's better than not thinking at all._

_Maybe if you don't think for a while you'll suddenly get an epiphany._

_Unlikely._

Leaving the company of Angela had done nothing to improve his situation. In fact, he felt like he was moving _backwards_ rather than forwards or even not at all. At least with Angela there were ideas being bounced back and forth, but sitting alone on his brought not one idea. For the past hour and a half, he had been listening to the constant bickering in his head, which was really starting to piss him off. It was like his subconscious was enjoying pushing his buttons, which also did not make sense to him because wouldn't his subconscious _want _to figure this out?

"Jesus Christ, shut up…" Booth grumbled weaving both hands into his hair and resting his elbows on his knees.

_Dude, you're making this way too difficult. Don't think so much man!_

The temptation to slam his head against the night stand was strong. That was the last thing he needed: for his subconscious to speak like Jack Hodgins.

"Okay," Booth sat up straight in his bed. "What does Bones want…"

_Truth._

"That's what I'm trying to give her, dumbshit. What else?"

_A gun._

Booth snorted. _Great, I'll give her a gun and build her a shooting range. That would end well for-_

Wait… the wheels started turning in his head. The voice of Jack Hodgins was replaced by the clunk of rotating metal that apparently had not been in use. The idea suddenly was being formed.

Ecstatically, he picked up the phone and dialed Angela's cell phone.

"Hello?" answered the groggy voice.

"I got it, Angela!"

"Huh?"

"I know what to do!" he said exuberantly. "You know, about Bones."

There was a momentary silence. Then, "Booth, I went home for a reason, to _sleep_. It's 11:30, I've been working all day, I'm tired. You better have a damn good plan to be waking me up."

"I do!" Booth insisted. "I was thinking about how Bones has wanted a gun and-"

"- I already don't like where this is going."

"Hey, hear me out first."

--------------------

Booth stood across the street from Brennan's apartment. It was almost noon and the few clouds that were in the sky were anything but threatening. A light carelessness filled the pleasant spring air, leaving Booth feeling a little out of place. His nerves were starting to pick up now that he was looking up at her window, standing alone on the opposite sidewalk with his cell phone out and ready to press speed dial. He took a deep breath and pressed number 1.

There were a few rings and then, "Brennan."

_Alright, here's your start. Good luck, and don't screw it up._ "Hey, Bones. Come outside. You're coming with me."

"Are you asking me or ordering me?" came the amused reply.

"Whichever you prefer."

"I'll be right down."

A minute later, he saw Brennan coming out of her building and gave her a smile and wave. She smiled back and joined him across the street.

"So, what are we doing?" she asked.

Booth gestured for her to follow. "First we're eating lunch in the park, then we're going to a shooting range."

Brennan gave him a confused look, "why?"

"What? We can't spend time doing non-case related things?" Booth asked, pretending to be insulted.

"It's not that," Brennan said. "I mean what would give you the idea of taking me to a shooting range for fun?"

It took Booth a moment to think of an answer. "I don't really know. I just thought it could be fun. I can prove to you that I'm a better shot."

She laughed and shoved his shoulder so he was temporarily pushed off the sidewalk. "We'll see about that. But I accept your challenge."

"Good," he steered her in the direction of the picnic table. "But first we have Thai food!" He felt his body warm at her broad smile when she saw the picnic table set up. Booth draped a simple tablecloth over the picnic table, two plastic plates sat across from the other with chop sticks laying on top. The boxes of food were set up meticulously around the table.

"Apres vous," Booth said, gesturing for her to sit down.

"Merci," she responded with a laugh.

Booth sat across from Brennan and started opening the various boxes of food. Brennan looked at her plate to pick up her chop sticks and noticed a single daffodil laying on a napkin next to her plate.

"Booth…"

"Hm?"

She held the daffodil loosely between her fingers and raised her eye brows.

"I know they're your favorite flower," he answered her silent question. "Too cheesy?"

"Extremely."

"Damn."

"Are you having one of your gentleman…ly moments?" Brennan asked, helping herself to some food. "With the picnic, flower, the French-"

"-well I would've said 'after you' in Thai if I knew how," Booth joked. "But yeah, I guess you could say that…"

Brennan didn't press the subject any further, and Booth was thankful for that. He was already nervous enough and was doing the best he could to hide it. When they were done eating, they got in Booth's car and he drove them to the indoor shooting range.

Brennan chuckled as she got out of the car.

"What?" Booth asked.

"Last time I was at this range was when we just became permanent partners," she laughed. "I was seriously considering shooting you then."

"Promise you won't shoot me today?" Booth said, only half kidding.

"I promise."

--------------------

Everything was going perfectly. Brennan was having a good time, he was having a good time. The freakishly well afternoon convinced Booth he was bound to royally screw up at some point, just prayed that it wouldn't be in the shape of a bullet hole.

"Damn you!" Brennan said loudly over his gun shots.

"Thanks," Booth said proudly.

Brennan squinted at his target, then back at hers. There was no doubt in either of their minds that she was a good shot. But fact of the matter remained that he was better.

"Your shots are nearly perfect!" Brennan said enviously.

"Yours are good too, Bones," Booth said, taking the ear protection off.

"Yes, but yours are better," she commented, also pushing off her ear protection. "How do you get so many perfect shots?"

Booth walked over to stand next to her. "I'm an army trained sniper, remember?"

Brennan aimed her gun at the target. "I'm I holding it wrong?"

Booth surveyed her. "No, not wrong. There are just small things that would help to fix." He stepped behind her. "Widen your stance a little more and bring your foot slightly back." He used his foot to nudge hers and she obeyed. "Make sure the gun is in your line of vision so it lines up with the target." He had her back pressed against his chest as he stood behind her and lifted her arms. He felt a soft shudder run through her as his breath caressed her neck. "There's also mentality that goes into it. Your heartbeat causes your body to move. Everything moves, shoulders, arms, chest, fingers, all when your heart beats."

"I know," she muttered.

"Hey, you asked for my help, I'm trying to help."

"Sorry, continue."

He smiled. "You know you can't make your heart stop, but you can slow it. Try not to quicken your pulse by becoming excited or agitated. Try to relax," his voice was softening, becoming a soothing murmur. "Breath evening in and out. You want to clear your mind of everything but the target."

In a moment of silence he could feel her breathing. He felt when she took a breath to speak. "I'm finding emptying my mind to be rather difficult at the moment."

"Why's that?"

She suddenly spun around to face him and took off her goggles. "Your proximity makes it hard to slow down my pulse."

To anyone else, those words would have sounded clinical and distant, but to Booth it was all the encouragement he needed. Before he had a second chance to think about it, his body was pressing her against the wall and his lips descended hotly on hers. She met his challenge eagerly and breathed him in. Her body temporarily gave out as his tongue traced her lower lip and then met hers. There was a clatter at the gun she was holding fell to the floor and she wrapped both hands around his neck to keep her upright.

"You're so lucky that didn't go off," she breathed heavily against his mouth. His teeth dragged gently against her lips, she gasped and he grinned.

"And lucky you didn't shoot me," he added once he regained control of his voice. She grinned back at him and brushed her lips slowly over his, but pulled back before he could deepen it again. "Last time we were in this position here part of me really wanted to do that."

She quirked her head to the side. "What did the other part of you want to do?"

Booth paused before continuing. "Well, part of me wanted to kiss you, while the other half wanted to hit you."

Brennan laughed. "Well three years ago I probably was tempting you to."

He laughed too and again brushed his lips against hers. "I have to call Angela in a few minutes."

"Why?"

"I have to tell her that I'm alive and that you didn't shoot me."


End file.
